


A Tale of Drunkenness and Too Many Emojis

by Anonymous



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Drunk Texting, Getting Into Bed Together, Kissing, M/M, Secret Liaison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 15:02:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19748125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: We all know from the Graham Norton interview that David doesn't know what the 'eggplant emoji' signifies. After several flirtatious messages from Michael, and the drunken exchange of intimate pictures, David soon gets the gist of naughty emojis. And then he's stood on Michael's doorstep, waiting to be let in, and they both know why he's there.





	A Tale of Drunkenness and Too Many Emojis

**Author's Note:**

> This is not real - it is complete fantasy and a figment of my all-too vivid imagination.

_Ring. Riiinnngg._

He could never have been a postman. There was somehow _nothing_ which felt more _uncomfortable_ than knocking on someone's door, or ringing someone's bell - even if you actually _knew_ the person who lived in the house whose door you were knocking on. David fidgeted, played with a loose thread on his jeans as he counted down the seconds until the call was answered. He was trying to distract himself. He felt that neighbours were watching him; he noticed curtains twitching out of the corner of his eye. And yet it would be perfectly plausible and understandable that he would be visiting his _friend_ , a fellow actor he happened to be currently working with - so why was he so thoroughly uneasy? Because even if the other people on the street didn't know why he was standing on Sheen's doorstep, _he_ did.

"Why not come round to mine one afternoon and we can see how things... progress?" Michael had proposed. There had been too much drink involved, too many misspelt, all-too _suggestive_ text messages, laden with emojis - once David had been taught what they meant - and, _boy_ , had Michael enjoyed teaching him. David had admitted on the Graham Norton show that he hadn't known the double-meaning of the 'eggplant emoji' and hilarious banter had ensued - humorous texts had followed, full of aubergines and naughty winks - and, last thing at night, with Michael tucked up in bed and not wearing very much at all, and David down the pub - rather drunk, some way to plastered, and too curious for his own good - a flirty goodnight message to finish. And then pictures. Of actual aubergines. Not _actual_ aubergines, if you understand.

Sheen unfastened the door and ushered him in with a smile. He sensed Tennant's nervousness and wanted to help him feel at ease, but was unsure of how to begin - did they hug? Shake hands? After all, he'd invited David here to _fuck_. He placed his hands on Tennant's chest and suddenly the younger man seemed so very tall to him, as if Sheen hadn't really _realised_ before how he had to gaze _upwards_ to meet with his eyes. Michael could feel David's heartbeat pounding through his t-shirt. He'd prepared his home accordingly; all of the blinds were closed and he'd tried to tidy most of his bits and bobs away, though the dwelling was undoubtedly the pad of a single man, who had no ties and no worries, and no _wife_ \- and such a thing put David on edge even more. Tennant ran a thumb over his pocket, tracing the corner of his mobile phone, a denim-clad protrusion. He'd put it on silent.

"Can I get you a... drink... or something?" Michael asked him, trying to play host, "Beer? Whisky and soda?--"

"--Water," David blurted. "Water will be fine. I... uh... Just need something to wet my mouth - it's a bit dry," he said, inadvertently giving away how anxious he was feeling. He didn't even _consider_ that his words might be taken another way.

"Oh," replied the Welshman, cheekily. "Maybe I can do something about that," he added, combing fingers through David's beard - they both had one now - a matching set - and the thought of their facial fuzz colliding during passionate kisses was something which Sheen had devoted far too much thought to. He was so hungry to _kiss_ David and to know what it felt like. He was quite sure that - right now - he was even hungrier than his character, Aziraphale, was to kiss Tennant's character, Crowley - and he'd made it very clear in interviews that he was convinced that the pair were in love. He'd even confessed in one interview that _David_ was very easy to love. What an _understatement_ , thought Michael - he'd hardly been able to stop thinking about him, both in and out of filming. Michael pulled him in for a rather tentative kiss, with tongue - gentle and wary.

Sheen's bed was large and squishy, and the sheets were cool - for the _moment_ , anyway - as things were heating up by the second. They were fully naked now. David was relieved that Michael didn't seem to have any unrealistic expectations about his body. Much to his own surprise - after starring as Doctor Who, Tennant had been pinned as a bit of a heart-throb - and, with so many young women lusting after you, it somehow seemed wrong _not_ to have a six-pack and washboard abs - as if he was a bit of a _fraud_ . But he wasn't - neither of them were. Despite their status as sex-symbols, they were a pair of middle-aged dads, sagging around the middle a little, trying their best to stay in shape and not eat too many cream cakes. After one interviewer had accused Michael of wearing a fat-suit for the Aziraphale role, he was simply happy that David hadn't _laughed_ as he'd stripped off. Quite the opposite, actually - he _loved_ what he saw.

"I..." Tennant started, with a huffed giggle, "I don't... really know... what to do next." He looked to Sheen for guidance, as he lovingly caressed the older man's chest, sitting back on the bed between his legs, Michael with his back flat to the duvet.

"What do you mean?" there was a snort, and a wide grin, "You've produced five kids, man."

"I know," David replied, elongating the 'o' vowel and somehow sounding more Scottish than ever. "But this is... _different_ ," he bashfully smiled.

"Top drawer," Michael directed him to where he'd find all that he would need to continue - slightly demanding, _impatient_ , and in a way which _seriously_ turned David on. Widening the gap between his already open legs, giving access to his partner, he half-growled, half-whispered, _"I'll show you what to do - don't you worry about that."_


End file.
